


It Hurts The Most

by KyeAbove



Series: The Reinforcement Of Agony AU [81]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Amnesia, Assault, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 01:52:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15132476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyeAbove/pseuds/KyeAbove
Summary: Agony:HellThe Prophet knew only his Lord, the Ink Demon, obey no other. But the Searchers werehisto protect. Even at a cost.





	It Hurts The Most

~Unknown~

* * *

 

“Come on, Uncle Jacksie. Can’t you play the fiddle anymore?”

What an...odd phrase to hear. It was just around the corner too, the voice. It was uncommon to hear voices not in the form of recordings. This voice sounded natural.

The Prophet peered around the corner, and gazed upon the peculiar sight.

An ink man was standing tall over a Searcher with a hat on his head, holding out a fiddle. But the Searcher only starred. Stared at nothing. Still, the man persisted.

“Just ‘cause Uncle Johnny is gone, doesn’t mean you can’t play. Play for me. Please?”

The ink man stepped toward a bit more, and the Searcher recoiled, and The Prophet had seen enough.

“You! Leave him alone.” The Prophet stomped into view, and when the ink man only looked at him with a blank expression while itching his feet forward, surely thinking The Prophet didn’t see, The Prophet retaliated by charging and grabbing the ink man, and smashing his form against the wall several times.

The Searchers weren’t others playthings, after all.

“Ah, fuck.” The ink man dropped the fiddle, and for that The Prophet hurt him more. The hurt of his broken banjo was still fresh, and no instrument deserved mistreatment.

The ink man took the punch with no protest, his gaze still as blank as it’d been before.

“Are you a believer in the Ink Demon’s grace?” The Prophet would give the ink man one chance.

“No. I believe in the God above, and His love.” The ink man replied, and something finally changed in his expression. He was looking down ever so slightly.

“Ah, so you’re a heathen.”

“What are you really then? You wear a cross.”

The Prophet looked down, and he did indeed wear a cross. Only because he couldn’t get it off. But he wasn’t going to tell the heathen that. Instead, he looked for more opportunity to hurt the ink man.

But the ink man was caught in his own thoughts again, staring at the cross with scrutiny. Maybe even recognition.  When the heathen reached to touch it, The Prophet swatted at the hand and jumped away.

“Is that really you, dad? Papa?” The heathen pitched his voice for the second word, and he dropped to his knees, looking up at The Prophet with a sorrowful yet hopeful expression.

“I have no idea what you mean.”

The hope didn’t die in the heathen’s eyes, even though it should have.

“Please, papa! I’m...Ma..” The heathen growled. “Ma..ma...Murk? Murk isn’t right. It isn’t right. It isn’t right. Papa, what’s my name?”

Despite his misgivings, there was a...feeling nagging at The Prophet. He wanted to crouch down, and beg for this heathen’s forgiveness. He wanted to hug the _boy_ , and tell him that his name was forever and always…

 **_̸ʇ̸ʇ̸ɐ̸W_  
**   
What? Where was this coming from? The Prophet wasn’t even sure what the word (name?) was meant to be.

“I know you’re you! Don’t you know me anymore?"

“No.” The hope finally died in the heathen's eyes, since the ‘no’ was as cold as it could have been. “Even if...my lord means more to me than anyone ever could.” With that, The Prophet kicked the heathen in the chest, and turned around to make sure his Searcher was alright.

The Searcher retreated and disappeared once he noticed he was being approached. The Prophet wasn’t sure why. Searchers were such odd creatures. The Prophet chocked it up to him being called back to the puddles.

Behind him, the heathen cried, and The Prophet left without a second thought.

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to come back to haunt Sammy down the road. Poor Sammy, though. He’s managed to lose himself, two kids, and a brother to Joey. The Prophet is also a huge hypocrite. Jack might not be able to fully comprehend his surroundings and his existence, but even he’s trying to call The Prophet out on his bullshit. 
> 
> Matt was eighteen when he died, but he’s mentally regressed in some ways due to trauma, and his mind is screwed up in other ways too.


End file.
